Dribbles and Daydreams
by peppymint
Summary: Scene expansions from some of my S&S plunnies. The result of an overactive imagination.
1. SS 18 36 38

**General Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one**

**Authors Note: **_This work is brought to you by peppymint on account of that my brain doesn't have a freaking off switch. As it is, I have enough plunnies under S&S to keep me busy for a decade. If you haven't read those, you will probably be confused as these are based off them. And I come up with new ones all the time, though thankfully I don't write them all down. Anyway, as some of you may be aware, one of my self imposed rules is that I only work on one multi-chapter story at a time. My drabble collections do not count. However, I am constantly beset by scenes from my other unwritten stories. So, I have decided to jot a few of them down. Both for your entertainment and future reference. Hope you enjoy, and don't forget, if you want to adopt a plunnie and take it home, all you have to do is ask._

**18: Child of Aurelius**

The two master vampires stood silently over the makeshift crib, regarding the bright eyed creature within. One of them wondering how the hell he had gotten himself into this situation. He was William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, and hardly fit to be the guardian to a human child. At the same time though, he knew better than to ignore one of Dru's visions.

Spike snorted, starting to light up a cigarette before abruptly changing his mind. He had heard somewhere the smoke was bad for mortals. Probably better not to take chances. It occurred to him at this point they didn't even know their charge's name. A matter that would have to be rectified.

"Harold," Drusilla spoke in a singsong voice. That her companion had not voiced the thought aloud was hardly an issue. "Harold James Potter after his Father and Grandfather." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "A nasty common name." She turned to look at Spike. "Miss. Edith says his Mother called him Harry."

"Well then," the bleached blond said, sliding around his lover sensuously to pick up the infant, settling the boy on his shoulder and beginning a half-forgotten bouncing motion from his youth. "We will just have to change it then." It wasn't as though the action was without precedent in their line. "How about Hadrian?" he asked, taking the cue that his dark princess wanted to keep the nickname.

Dru shook her head.

"Haru? Herne? Harrison?" Spike threw out a few more suggestions, all of which were met with rejection.

"Harridan," the seer spoke abruptly, cutting him off. "His name will be Harridan."

The slender vampire raised one scarred eyebrow. Harridan? He had to wonder if she had come up with the name on a whim or if his Dru had seen something. It was at this moment that the infant spit up. Leaving a milky while residue all over his favorite leather jacket.

Slowly, Spike inhaled, reining in his temper. Nope he decided, returning Harridan to his crib. Definitely an omen. This little one was going to be a holy terror.

**36: A Clean Slate**

"_I am certain you will make a fine addition to the team Lindsey," the man said his smile reminiscent of a shark's. He reached out to shake the younger lawyer's hand. "And let me be the first to welcome you to Wolfram and Hart."_

The fourteen year old awoke with a gasp, eyes searching for the figure who had been with him for as long as he could remember. The one no one else could see. "You signed away our soul?" he demanded. Only the presence of his Mother and little sister down the hall keeping his voice under control.

Lindsey, or rather the memory of him, shrugged a bit self consciously. "I thought it was a joke. A gag for the new guy at the office." By the time he had found out just how serious that clause was it was it was far too late. It had been too late the moment he had put down the pen.

"You sold our soul," the teenager repeated, still in shock. How could the other/him/them? Aw to heck with it, trying to figure out the proper pronoun made his head hurt. How could Lindsey have done such a thing?

"Eliot!" the lawyer said sharply. "Snap out of it. You have nothing to worry about."

"How can you say that?" his slightly distorted mirror image hissed, throwing the bedcovers off. "You sold our soul."

A smirk crossed the apparition's face. It was an expression more than one legal opponent had seen right before their case dropped out from under him. "No," he corrected. "Lindsey McDonald sold his soul. But in case you missed the memo, he doesn't exist any more."

Eliot's face began to take on its normal hue. "You mean . . ."

"Yes," his _imaginary friend _answered simply, holding the expression a moment before it shifted into a more mischievous look. "Remind me to explain it to you sometime." He himself had been created before the flesh and blood version of Lindsey McDonald had gone through with the plan. But that didn't mean he was unaware of what it was.

**38: Not So Normal**

The young man gave a brief sigh of relief as Dawn vanished, taken away be the transportation potion he had given her. He couldn't allow himself to relax however, quickly turning his attention back to the battle.

Spike was down for the count. Most of the others not that much better off. Only he and Buffy remained on their feet. Xander had no illusions. He had power in his own right, in spite of that fact he chose not to advertise it, even to his friends. But Glory was a god. He didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of stopping her on his own.

But then, the witch knew, he didn't have to. All he had to do was weaken her. That would be enough. It would have to be enough. Xander winced as the Slayer took a particularly nasty blow, staggering backwards. If he was going to do something, it had better be now.

Sending up a silent prayer for any higher power that happened to be listening, the young man started to chant. They needed all the help they could get.

_I call upon the ancient power_

_To aid us in this, our most desperate hour_

Xander could feel the magic, his birthright. No matter how unusual his birth had been as the unauthorized child of one of Melinda Warren's descendants and a whitelighter. A male at that. However, he knew it wasn't enough. Fortunately, he had other means at his disposal.

_Hear me matriarchs of my line_

_Heirs to powers both damned and divine_

Mentally crossing his fingers, the young man spoke the next line.

_Witches, tried bold and true_

_Blood to blood I call on you_

Resisting the urge to sigh in relief as he felt the power build, Xander continued the spell. He had never attempted to reach out to his ancestors before, and to be honest hadn't been entirely certain they would answer. His grandmother wasn't the only one who disliked men.

_Bless the champion of darkness and light_

_Help her stand firm against evil's might_

Buffy seemed to gain a second wind, knocking Glory's feet out from under her. She spun around, slamming the troll hammer into the hell goddess's face. It was a beautiful sight to those watching the battle.

_Bind the Beast deep within_

_Let the human spirit win_

A broad grin spread across Xander's lips as Glory's image flickered to be replaced by that of Ben's. It had only been for a moment, but it was working.

_Let barriers between worlds be not broken_

_This heartfelt plea a witch has spoken_

Dark eyes searched the sky, willing the enemy's window of opportunity to pass. Even without Dawn's presence, a fair bit of damage could be done. There was a reason Glory had chosen this night for her ritual. Xander gathered himself for the final lines, voice rising with exultation.

_Aid me my sisters, the Charmed Ones prophesied_

_Give strength to this son of the Halliwell line_


	2. SS 11 17 30

_I own nothing and no one_

**11: Nothing Up My Sleeves**

Remy sat with his inner circle, contemplating the latest reports. They certainly didn't look like your average group of high powered mutants, if such a thing can be said to exist. For one, not one of them was wearing a hint of spandex. When they did go into battle, their clothing of choice was body armor. Dark colored, as they did most of their work at night.

The group didn't have an official name. They didn't leave calling cards, nor did they care if they got credit (or blame) for their actions. They knew they were already damned, but why should they take anyone else with them? They would do all they could to protect others, and if their hands got a little dirty while they did it. Well, then so be it.

The twenty-two year old flipped a single card across his knuckles with unconscious skill. Magneto was a problem all right. The older man had vision, and the power to back it up. He had already set plans in motion to bring St. John to the other's attention. However . . .

Gambit sighed, the card disappearing. "No help for it. I'll just have ta go myself." The small group stared at their leader. Remy had never been one to sit on the sidelines, but this was likely to be a long term assignment. What would they do in the meantime?

Finally Pyro spoke. "No offense mate," he said. "But you're a walking, talking atomic bomb. And this Magneto chap doesn't strike me as the type to appreciate equals." Or superiors, the Aussie added in his head.

The Cajun merely shrugged, a smirk crossing his face. "But Magneto doesn't know that. Does he?"

**17: Wandering Hitokiri**

"Fool! Don't you know who I am." The man cut an impressive figure. Fully a head taller than his opponent, his arms bulged with corded muscle. "I am the Hitokiri Battousai. The Demon of Kyoto." A nasty sneer crossed his features.

The alley's only other occupant merely tilted his head to one side, unconcerned. "And yet," a dangerous voice said softly. "You do not seem to know me." Even before the man had foolishly confessed, he knew he had the right person. The other verily stank of fresh blood. A rare phenomenon in this new era.

The police officer drew his katana, but otherwise remained completely relaxed. At least on the outside, he hadn't survived this long by being careless. "Surely _Battousai_," he drew the title into an insult. "It has not been that long."

The faintest hints of foreboding began to settle in the faux assassin's stomach. His grip on his blade tightening. "Who are you?" he asked, half afraid of the answer.

"Hajime Saitou. You may have heard of me." The cool response was accompanied by a distinctly wolf-like smirk.

"Saitou," the man echoed resisting the urge to take a step backwards. Surely not the Hajime Saitou. "The Captain of the Third Squad of the Shinsengumi." That Saitou.

"The same." All at once the wolf didn't seem nearly so relaxed, taking a purposeful step towards the other. He had known long before his arrival in Tokyo that this so-called Battousai was a fake. The facts were all wrong. Still, orders were orders, and besides which . . .

"We may have been on opposite sides," the amber eyed swordsman said evenly. "But Kenshin Himura was an honorable opponent." Battousai would have never been party to the slaying of innocents the way this man had done. "A man I respected." His blade came up as he sank into a fighting crouch. "And I will not allow the likes of you to tarnish his memory."

Suddenly there came a low chuckle. "I appreciate your championship of me," a familiar voice reached Saitou's ears at the same time a lithe figure stepped from the shadows. Seemingly out of nowhere, revealing crimson hair and a pair of eyes that burned golden for the first time in many years. He made for an intimidating sight, even before he unshielded his ki.

Battousai, the real Battousai let his eyes slide over his old sparring opponent before the unearthly gaze settled on the reason he had come to Tokyo. "But I believe I have a previous claim on this idiot's life." He had no love for the title he had gained, but that didn't mean he would allow another to claim it.

**30: Codename Uriel**

Eagle hesitated. Sure, this guy had saved his life, and yes he was grateful. Still, climbing inside strange helicopters that appeared out of nowhere was not a good career move for a professional solider. Heck, it wasn't a good move for anybody.

The man took a deliberate step away from the rope ladder, waving the copter off. He'd take his chances on the ground. It was true the odds were somewhat against him, alone in hostile territory. With skill and a bit of luck though, he could make the border. Probably.

However the helicopter didn't move. Instead the pilot flipped a single switch, activating the external speakers. "Get your ass up here Eagle," came the order. "Unless you want Wolf to know what really happened to his favorite jacket."

A pair of dark eyes widened dramatically. There had only been three people present at that incident and they had all sworn never to breath a word about it. And, he knew for sure Fox was safe several hundred miles away. Which left . . .

"Cub," the solider whispered in disbelief. Their youngest member was alive. Alive! Suddenly Eagle's smile faded. A severe expression crossing his face as he slung his rifle over his back, determinedly starting up the ladder. "I'm going to kill him."


	3. SS 19 22 23

_I own nothing and no one_

_Hopefully these scenes will become full stories someday_

_Until then, this will have to do_

**19: For the Better**

"You're not serious!" Sirius gasped. "The Togakureryu Academy!" He and his mysterious rescuer had agreed (or rather he had looked at the man, gulped, and quickly given his word) years before to settle their discussions out of Harry's sight. Which was why they were arguing in a room smothered in silencing charms. "He could die." Hadn't the other heard about that place?

The man known as Damian Vansone smiled grimly at the man who both was, and was not his godfather. "Careful Siri," he warned. "Your finally tuned British prejudices are showing again." The other wasn't nearly as impulsive or narrow minded as he had once been thank Merlin. But he still slipped from time to time.

The pureblood took a deep breath, forcing himself to think. "What do you mean?" he asked calmly.

"The last fatality at Togakureryu occurred in 1987, when a student attempted a ritual he had been warned to leave alone," the time traveler spoke the facts dryly. "The last death at Hogwarts was in 1991, when Ravenclaw's seeker was hit in the head by a stray bulger." He snorted. "Think about it, do you honestly believe any parent would send their child to the kind of school you seem to think Togakureryu is?"

Sirius looked puzzled. "Then why . . ." His voice trailed off. Why all the rumors about the Black Arts? Of students being encouraged to fight, sometimes to the death?

"Jealousy," Damian's answer was short and to the point. "They knew Togakureryu was the better school, but were unable to accept it." Which was why Harry was going, his younger self would need those teachings. His faux cousin would not stand alone. However, he knew better than to believe he could be at the other's side for every second.

There was a moment of silence. "What about Dumbledore?" Sirius asked at last. The slightly younger man had managed to keep his godson's disappearance a secret somehow, but the Headmaster would surely notice he was missing a student come September.

A pair of emerald eyes glowed. "Don't worry about it," Damian told him. He had put the finishing touches on his plan years ago. "Just leave everything to me."

**22: Old Friends Never Die**

Nicolas felt a stab of regret in his undead heart. If only he had gotten here sooner. But he hadn't. What was done was done, and the past could not be changed. Carelessly, he dropped the drained body of the final cutpurse, crouching down to close their victim's glazed eyes.

His fingers were literally brushing the other's eyelashes when the figure suddenly gasped. The vampire feel back with an undignified yelp, nearly falling. The man had been dead. His heart had not been beating. "What are you?" he whispered in disbelief yellow eyes wide.

A look of amusement crossed Methos' face as he hauled himself back to his feet. Taking a moment to brush the dirt off his clothes, though they were still covered in blood. "Shouldn't the question be what are you?" he asked. The Immortal paused, looking Nick up and down. "Then again, I think I can guess."

There weren't that many stories about supernaturally strong creatures of the night who feed on blood. Though the other man seemed far from a mindless bloodthirsty monster. All things considered, Methos was pleased. It was good to know that even after four and a half thousand years this planet could still surprise him. Besides, he was curious.

Nicolas seemed to snap out of it then, catching the other's eye. _"Forget," _he commanded.

Methos just looked amused. He could feel something, but it was easy to ignore. "Forget what?"

"Damn it," the blond cursed. A resistor, just his luck. _"Forget," _he commanded again, pouring on more power. "Please, I don't want to kill you."

"And why would you have to kill me?"

"It is part of the code," Nick hissed only half thinking of what he was saying. "No mortal can know of our existence."

Slowly, Methos smiled. "Problem solved then," he said flippantly raising his arms out to his sides. "As you can see, I am clearly not mortal."

**23: Melting the Ice**

Dark stumbled, only half aware of wear he was going. He had been asleep for a long time. Two generations, as the Niwa had suffered an excess of girl children in recent years. Now though, he almost wished he had never woken up. Daisuke's words echoing in his mind with sickening finality.

Reaching his destination, the dark angel fell to his knees. In front of him stood a single marble headstone. The design was simple, there were no elaborate carvings. Nothing to show the man lying beneath it had been the scion of the most talented artists in history. Satoshi Hikari, it read. There was no epitaph. Only his date of birth and death.

"Damn you," Dark hissed pounding his fists against the dirt. "Damn you Satoshi," it was one of the few times he had ever used the other's true name. The Hikari line was dead, and with it his other half.

The angel didn't even realize when his shoulders began to shake, tears running down his cheeks. His whole existence had been one of change. The world changed, the people changed, even the stars sometimes changed. Only one thing had remained the same, and now he was gone. Long purple bangs hung down to cover eyes of the same color as the other lowered his head.

Dark heard the soft footsteps approach, but he didn't stir. Didn't care who it was, or what they wanted. Until that is, the other crouched down beside him, gloved hands coming up to gently shift the other's head. And suddenly, the dark angel found himself staring into a pair of golden eyes he knew as well as his own.

"Tears my darkness," Krad spoke softly. "For me?"


	4. SS 08 PoaT

_I own nothing and no one_

_This week we have some previews _

_for future installments of PoaT_

_Hope you enjoy_

**PoaT: Psyche's Day Off**

Officer Thomson paused, his pen half way in the air as he stared at the sight in disbelief. Then, he cleared his throat. "Um, Inspector."

"Yeah," Nakamori answered, not looking up from the coffee pot. It was times like this he envied that stupid thief. _He_ didn't have to fill out reports on his heists after the fact.

"Don't look now, but isn't that Rei's cat?"

Ginzo's head whipped around. Dark eyes focusing on the small gray creature. It was. Carefully setting down his cup, the inspector signaled his men. They couldn't exactly arrest an animal. Still, it would be nice to force the kaitou to come to them for once, instead of the other way around.

From all indications, Psyche was totally unaware of their stealthy approach. Daintily cleaning one paw as she sat on the edge of the Inspector's desk.

"One," Nakamori mouthed holding up a single finger. "Two," the taskforce got a little closer. "Three!" En masse, the group lunged. It was a familiar tactic, dog-pile on the bandit. Or in this case, the bandit's pet. It worked just as well too.

Regal as any queen, Psyche trotted down the man-made hill. Deliberately stepping on exposed faces as she went. Ignoring the protests from the men as they struggled to untangle themselves. Serves them right for thinking she was some simple animal.

Effortlessly the familiar sprang up to the open window. Pausing to look back over her shoulder. A cheshire grin spreading over her features, at least that is what the taskforce would claim after the fact. Chaos, confusion, her work here was done.

**PoaT: Brothers in Arms**

"Click." For such a small thing, the sound of the gun being cocked was ominously loud. Matters were not helped along by the ugly expression of the man wielding the weapon.

Kaito wasn't overly worried for himself. Not only was he wearing the best body armor money couldn't buy, but he could be clear from the line of fire in a split second. A judiciously applied smokescreen would give him significantly more time then that. The police officers standing behind him however, had no such assurances. The phantom thief did not move.

"What are you going to do now boy?" Snake taunted. It was obvious the assassin had never read Peter's Evil Overlord List. Otherwise he would have known better. "All out of tricks?"

"Don't be ridiculous," the white-clad figure waved off his nemesis' pseudo-concern. "I always have a plan." Several of them to be honest. "In this case, my plan is to scream like a little girl."

For a single moment, both sides held similar expressions. What the hell? Had the thief finally lost it?

Then Rei opened his mouth. "Yuki!"

**PoaT: Thirty Minutes**

There was a brief silence, during which the shrunken detective's mind quickly put the pieces together. "Shit," he swore. It wasn't exactly Shinichi's habit to curse, but the current situation seemed to warrant it. "So that's what happened to the Kaitou Kid."

"He is not lying on a beach in Bora Bora," Rei said silkily, voice slightly bitter. "That's for sure."

The other opened his mouth. Working up the nerve to apologize for his previous words. However, the thief didn't give him the chance.

"And those bastards didn't stop there either," the thief murmured. His bright blue eyes fixed on a distant point only he could see. Visions of blood and flames dancing behind the mask he showed the world. "His partner, his wife. I'm the only one left."

Then the moment was over and Rei grinned, his usual equilibrium restored. "Of course," he admitted freely buffing his fingernails on the fabric of his jacket before holding them out to admire. "They tried to kill me too." He paused briefly. "But that is neither here nor there."

**Random Omake**

Inspector Ginzo Nakamori glowered at the second bane of his existence. Paperwork. In all honesty, there were times when he seriously considered whether or not they had begun to breed. Sighing, the man pulled the pile towards him. There was no help for it, and the sooner he started the sooner he would be finished.

Until that is his secretary dumped a new bunch on his desk. Something that never seemed to take as long as the officer thought it should. Ginzo sighed again, reaching for the first paper on the stack.

Let's see, there was a response from his boss about a request for some of the departments more advanced surveillance equipment. Thankfully a favorable one. An inter-office memo about the annual Christmas party. One letter of complaint from the owner of a certain gemstone which was immediately dumped in the trash. The Inspector didn't understand why the guy was so upset. He had gotten the diamond back, hadn't he?

Then there was the consultation from a professional magician the taskforce sometimes employed to unravel Rei's latest escapades and another from a jeweler. Confirming that yes, the ruby the kaitou had turned his nose up at had indeed been a forgery. Not to mention the ballistics report that had been forwarded from Forensics. Nakamori didn't especially care for people taking potshots at his thief. That one was placed in his lap for further contemplation.

Hold on, Ginzo's brow furrowed as he pulled the next paper free. What was this? It looked like a standard Request of Leave form. But why hadn't the officer just spoken to him about it? A more thorough examination showed why. It was from Rei. Each box neatly and accurately filled out, explaining that the thief would be out of town (if not the country) for the next month and a half. Under reasons the words familial responsibilities had been printed.

Nakamori felt his brow twitch. Hands convulsively tightening around the sheet before he forced himself to let go. It wouldn't do to destroy evidence. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to set it carefully to one side. Only to swear viciously when he saw what was beneath it. A travel brochure, along with two plane tickets to Paris, France.


	5. SS 12 15 26

_Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one_

_Still having computer issues_

_But at least my typing program works_

_That is something at least_

**12: Darkest Before Dawn**

"He wants me to marry Lucius," Livia complained to her long time confident. The Roman General was heartless and cruel. Not at all what she was looking for in a husband. Her slender legs were drawn up to her chest. Something that made her look like a child as oppose to the skilled warrior Ares knew her to be.

The young woman inwardly shuddered at the thought it could have been her leading those armies. The memory was as clear as though it had been only yesterday. The look on her foster Father's face after her first official lesson in swords play had scared her. That had also been the day she had begun to draw away from the man who had become Rome's Emperor.

At the time, Livia had been horribly embarrassed to give such a poor performance when she could have done so much better. Still, she had been told to fail, and she had. Been consoled repeatedly not to let on she already possessed a fine combat teacher. After all, who could be better than the god of war.

A strong hand reached over to smooth the young woman's curly brown hair. "Don't worry," Ares told her. "You will not marry Lucius." Even if he had to kill the man himself. Xena's daughter meant more to him than any single warrior.

"Promise?"

His dark eyes softened, regarding his charge. "I promise Vee. Now go to sleep." Materializing a blanket from midair, Ares laid it over the young woman's shoulders.

She was almost asleep when a final question escaped her lips. "Is my real name Vivian?"

Ares simply rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to sigh. "Even if it was I wouldn't tell you." He had almost slipped when Eve was younger and she had been nagging him about it ever since.

Livia's eyes cracked back open. "I'm almost twenty-five years old," she grumbled. "You don't have to protect me anymore." She still didn't know who she really was, or what had happened that her Mother had gone to such lengths to hide her. But she wanted to.

The god of war chuckled, bending down to kiss her brow. "Yes," he said firmly. "I do." And as for how long, well forever seemed just about right.

**15: Unnamed**

"Pack your bags," Gibbs barked. "We're going to Chicago." He wasn't especially happy the corpse's extremely influential family had pulled strings to get his team assigned to the case. But that wasn't going to stop him from doing his job.

Tony froze, the smile dropping off his face. Chicago? Why not just drop him in the Nevernever and be done with it. That city was absolutely riddled with leylines. For years the brunette had avoided the supernatural. Ever since his family had exiled him for the unforgivable crime of being too human. Choosing the most magic null locations he could to make his home.

Gibbs, being Gibbs, didn't fail to notice this. "Something wrong Dinozzo?" he inquired. Steel blue eyes giving his senior agent a once over.

"Nothing boss," Tony answered at once. "It's just," he gave a dramatic shudder. "It's cold in Chicago boss."

The other agents snorted while Gibbs just looked unamused. "Suck it up," he told him. "And let's go."

Groaning, the younger man reached down to grab his overnight bag. Throwing it over one shoulder. With luck, this would be a perfectly normal murder, if such a thing could be said to exist. With a perfectly normal explanation. No vampires, fairies, demons, or dark magic allowed.

Abby would take the evidence to her lab, McGeek would do his thing, Ziva would hit the suspect when he tried to run, and Gibbs would glare, causing him/her to spill everything he/she knew. As for him, he would make sure none of his teammates got munched by something from the other side of things. With luck, they would all be home by Friday.

**26: Water's Thicker**

"You're scum Standish," came a harsh voice from further down the hall. "Always have been, always will be. It is only a matter of time until the ATF comes to their senses and rids themselves of you."

Quickening his pace, Vin regarded the scene in front of him with displeasure. Then, he leaned against a wall, posture deceptively casual. "The way I see it," the Texan drawled, deliberately thickening his accent. "Only one person here is scum, and it ain't Ez." H smiled grimly. "Pretty sure it ain't me neither."

The well dressed man spun, eyes widening with shock. "You," he spat. "What are you doing here? I told you to stay out of New York."

Vin snorted, reaching up to pull his hat a little lower over his features. A gesture that somehow seemed more dangerous than it should have. "Tell me Victor," the sharpshooter said softly. "Just what makes you think you have any control over what I can and can not do?" He had stayed out of New York because it pleased him. No other reason.


	6. SS Dieties of Death

_I own nothing and no one_

_Adoption of this plunnie is actually pending_

_Unfortunately real life has interfered with my potential authors_

_Hoping this bit will inspire him/her _

**Deities of Death**

Duo kept up a steady stream of commentary as the two Oz soldiers dragged him down the hall. In a bout of bad luck, he had caught a bullet to the upper leg. Nothing life threatening, it wasn't that bad. It was however enough to slow him down considerably.

Likewise, the ability to become more or less invisible wouldn't do the meta a bit of good if he left a trail of blood behind him. To be honest, Duo had always been a bit puzzled by that quirk. The changes in his skin pigmentation were supposed to be biological in nature. So why did his clothes shift too? He supposed he would never know. All that really mattered was that they did.

So, the pilot had allowed himself to be captured. It was a calculated risk really. He doubted they would try to kill him immediately. He would just allow himself to heal up a bit, which would not take nearly as long as Oz thought. Then he would be on his merry way.

"Ow," Duo objected as a bad step jarred his injured leg. "Would it kill you guys to be a bit more gentle?" He was rewarded by the faint tick in one soldier's jaw. Oh yeah, he still had it.

The pilot was pulled through the door and forced to his knees. "Yo Teirze," he greeted cheerfully recognizing the other's distinctive boots. "Long time no see." Duo looked up, blowing a bit of stray hair out of his eyes. "Sorry about that base, it was an accident I swear." The timer had gone off thirty seconds early, that was the accident. "I'll try to do better next . . ."

Tanned features went dead white, his voice trailing off as one of the room's other occupants turned around, revealing all too familiar features. "Reis," the brunette whispered purple eyes widening in horror. He took a moment to wish his eyes were a different color. Blue, brown, anything but the damning violet.

Slowly, the white-haired man smirked. It was not a nice expression. He took a single step forward, gaze roaming over his creation. One of the ten left. Noting the changes the passing of years had wrought. "Shinigami," he drawled out the single word.

A thousand thoughts flew through the meta's mind at that moment. However, very few of them had to do with himself. Just because he and his siblings were apart physically didn't mean they were out of contact. Between the two of them, Celesta and Freya had set up a chat-room not even 01 could hack. He had seen Pluto face to face not a month ago.

He just knew too much, Duo thought with despair. Knew Mara had decided to become a veterinarian, aiding the animals whose pain she felt so keenly. That Azreal was studying at a Shaolin temple near a prominent school their youngest sister was attending. Or the fact Osiris was occupying himself by smuggling much needed supplies to the colonies. And so much more. Names. Places.

Shinigami wasn't suicidal. He loved living; he loved life. But at the same time he knew he could not allow the information he held to fall into Reis' hands. And the teen wasn't foolish enough to believe he could never be broken.

The deceptively slender frame twisted, using inhuman strength to wrench himself out of the soldiers' grips. One hand grabbing a pistol off the right man's belt as he did so, wrapping his good leg around the man's knees in order to knock him over.

Chaos. That was a good word to describe the state of the room as everyone scrambled to get out of the line of fire. They needn't have worried though. It wasn't Reis the gun was aimed at, or even the Commander of Oz.

Instead, Duo turned the weapon on himself. Jamming it under his chin and closing his eyes. "Sorry," he whispered. Both to his family and the other pilots. Then, he pulled the trigger.

Click. The pilot paused, purple eyes flying back open in disbelief. Click? It wasn't loaded? How could it not be loaded? That was his last conscious thought before the butt of a rifle slammed into the back of his head. Duo didn't even feel himself hit the ground.


	7. NumS Background

_I honestly have no idea when/if this story will ever get published._

_It needs a lot more work than most of my others._

_Not to mention figuring out how/where to put in certain plot twists._

_Plus the number of OCs/minor Characters_

_That last bit though, I can take care of now_

_This segment of DD is devoted to the background of "Nothing Up My Sleeves"_

_Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky and one of you will adopt it_

_p.s. Own nothing and no one_

**11: Nothing Up My Sleeves**

_Remy/Gambit: See Preview Under S&S_

Note: He is the leader of the group. Gambit rescued all the other members of his team after their tragedies, trained them, and gave them a purpose. Also, just because he was exiled from New Orleans (I am going with the comic version of events) does not mean he is out of touch with his family. He's got plenty of resources.

_Saint John/Pyro_

_Age 13_

"Stand aside Mary," the large man said in what he thought was a reasonable manner. "We don't want to hurt you." A few of the people behind him murmured agreements, while some of the others looked like they couldn't care less.

The woman's eyes flashed fire. "Are you all out of your minds?" she snapped, still standing between the mob and her son. "You ought to be ashamed of yourselves." Her hands trembled. Partially from anger, but more from fear.

She should have taken Saint John and run at the first sign of trouble, Mary thought to herself But, she had thought it would blow over. She had lived in this town all her life, so had her late husband. For her, this place was home, and home was supposed to be safe. Somehow, that just made this all worse.

Desperately the young woman turned her attention to another member of the crowd. "You know me Jim." He knew her son too. "You used to bring Angie over so she and Johnny could play." She could feel the tears gathering in her eyes. "Please, he's just a boy."

For a moment Jim looked uncomfortable before his expression hardened. "Be that as it may . . ." He never got to finish as someone else shoved him aside.

"That's no boy. It's a monster."

"Yeah!" came a different voice. "Let's get rid of it. Doesn't belong here filthy mutie."

"Kill it! Kill them all!"

Mary shoved her son more securely behind her. "It's alright," she whispered to him. "Everything is going to be fine." She took one step, then a second and a third. Forget the house, forget everything. Material possessions could be replaced. If they could just make it to the car.

They were halfway there when disaster struck in the form of a sound like thunder. Mary gasped, staggering as she felt a sharp pain in her chest. Uncomprehending, she looked down to see the crimson stain spreading across the material of her shirt. Then, she fell.

"Mom!" St. John shouted, dropping to his knees. "Mom, are you alright? Answer me." She didn't. She couldn't. Mary would never answer anyone again, her eyes glazed over in death. The teenager was in shock. He might just have sat there indefinitely had there not come a voice from the crowd.

"Serves her right the bitch."

The boy snarled, turning his head towards the crowd. "How dare you," he said. Voice shaking with fury as his hand closed over his Mother's cigarette lighter. She had carried it for as long as he could remember. It had been a gift from his Father. Almost in slow motion, he flipped it open. Striking a single spark. But then, that was all the young mutant needed. "Burn."

Note: Pyro's guilt stems from the fact that his inexperience caused the fire to get out of control. Killing the innocent along with the guilty. His hometown no longer exists.

_Wraith/Rashid_

_Age 15_

It had happened again. Once again he had somehow been transported into the world of shadows. That odd space between spaces where there was no light and no sound. Only this time he hadn't gone alone.

Somewhat desperately the teen looked around the small clearing that his family had chosen for their picnic. It had now been more than an hour since his parents and three siblings had disappeared. And, worst of all, Rashid had no idea how to get them back.

"Just calm down," the young man told himself. "Don't panic." He had done this, so it was only logical he should be able to undo it. "Think." How had he gotten himself out? That was easy. He had just pictured himself back in the real world.

So maybe. Rashid closed his eyes, building a perfect picture of the clearing in his mind. Then, he inserted his family, grasping his powers as best he could and pushing. When he opened them, his sister was lying on the grass in front of him.

The teenager was moving instantly. "Eba!" he cried grabbing her joyfully only to pause. Something was wrong. Releasing her, he backed away in horror, nearly falling over his own feet as he did so. The six year old's skin was blue. Her body cold and stiff, and she wasn't breathing.

His baby sister. The one member of his family who had never judged him. Even after the manifestation of his power had turned him into what amounted to a living shadow. Who had always been waiting with a ready smile. And now he had killed her.

"What have I done?" he whispered. Looking around, he saw other bodies. Corpses whose faces were all too familiar. All at once, Rashid's stomach rebelled, and he heaved. Stomach acid mixing with the food he had eaten in what seemed to be another life to spew on the ground in front of him.

Ever since the day when Rashid had realized he was a mutant he had tried to tell himself it would be alright. That this had happened to him for a reason. Now though, the fifteen year old knew better. It would never be all right again.

Note: Wraith's main power is transportation through the "shadow realm" to the location of his choice (anywhere on Earth). He can take others. However it is very cold there. If someone without protection is left for too long they will freeze to death. He is also the team's hacker.

_Amp/Blaise_

_Age 14_

The blond sat on the ratty couch, knees drawn up to his chest. Blue-gray eyes staring blankly past the television. Things had finally been starting to go his way. As an orphan Blaise had always known when to fade into the background.

The teenager had also known when to let himself be noticed. The science fair six months ago had been that time. His skills in the field of engineering had guaranteed him a scholarship to the university of his choice. Now though, he could see his dreams of the future going up in smoke.

Blaise hadn't been upset when his powers manifested. He had actually thought it was pretty cool, being able to manipulate electricity. He had practiced in secret, making bigger and bigger blasts. And nothing compared to the joy he felt the day he first discovered that he could fly.

But that had been then. The blond swallowed hard, wishing he had never even heard the word mutant. One of his blasts had slipped from his control, becoming far larger and far more dangerous than he had expected.

EMP, an electromagnetic pulse, that was what Blaise had unleashed. He had taken out a quarter of the cities power grid, including the airport. A jumbo jet had been in the process of landing at the time. The teen had no idea how many people had died when it plowed into the ground. And to be honest, he didn't want to know.

Any minute now, the blond expected the police to come busting through the door. To haul him away into some deep dark pit where no one would ever see him again. He deserved it. Maybe even wanted it. How else could he make up for what he'd done?

Note: Muses say official ruling of the police was that the EMP was caused by a group of terrorists with a bomb. So Blaise will not be constantly looking over his shoulder for the police.

_Laura/X-23/Raptor_

_Age: Complicated_

The shadowy figure released her arm and leaped backwards an instant before the clone's claws could connect. She snarled, mostly to cover her confusion. What the hell had just happened? She had completed her personal mission. Allowing her creators to capture her so she could destroy them from within. And it had worked.

An instant ago she had been standing on the bridge of a dying ship. Explosions going off all around her. X-23 had expected to die. Not even her healing abilities would have been able to handle all of the damage. What she had not expected was for another group to interfere.

"Evening chere."

The clone looked up to see a slender figure lounging on a large boulder about ten feet above her head. The glowing red eyes were a clear giveaway to his identity. "Gambit." Alpha Level mutant, powers centered around the manipulation of kinetic energy, she recalled the information from his file. Master Thief currently in the employ of the mutant terrorist known as Magneto.

There was only one logical explanation for his actions. "I will not allow myself to be used again," the feral snarled, sounding very much like Wolverine. "Not by Hydra, and certainly not by Magneto" And if the other chose to press the issue he could just go back in pieces.

Gambit merely smirked. "Mote point really, considering the bucket-head ain't here." Nor did Magneto have any idea that he was. Given Pyro's idea of what a distraction entailed, his supposed employer probably didn't even know he had left Bayville.

The young woman paused, considering the response. If the other wasn't here for Magneto then that meant . . . Her eyes narrowed. "You're an agent." No doubt he had infiltrated the Master of Magnetism's camp solely for the purpose of one day taking him down. Which meant of course, that Gambit was working on behalf of someone else. Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want with me?" she demanded. She stood by her earlier words, she would be no one's tool.

The Cajun shrugged. "Well chere, that's really up to you." He paused briefly. "But the way I see it, you have four options."

Note: Options were 1. walk away 2. go back to X-men 3. accept forged identity and try to live normal life 4. Join Gambit and co. Like the rest of them, Laura is what she is.

_Well, that is the team. Though I do have a couple other minor characters in mind_

_But, it is late and I'm tired so I guess this is good-bye_

_'til next time_

_peppymint_


	8. SS 25 33 37

_I own nothing and no one_

_As usual, if you see something you can't live without pm me_

_Take it home and name it Jeorge. Usual rules apply_

_One: Mention me in Author Notes_

_Two: No same sex pairings _

_Three: If you start it finish it_

**25: A Spark of Hope**

Vader resisted the urge to swear. All things considered, he would have preferred it if the Rebels got away. However, he could hardly punish his men for doing their jobs well. The Death Star was an abomination, not to mention totally unnecessary. He could think of no reason that would require an entire planet to be reduced to rubble.

The Dark Lord of Sith was especially unhappy the chase had come to an end over his home planet. The planet on which his son lived. He hissed, the sound unnaturally magnified through the mask that in truth, he no longer needed. The only upside to this entire affair so far as he could see was that the stolen plans were still missing.

Vader smiled grimly. In a perfect world they would stay missing. The spirited princess who reminded him of his late wife would be rescued and the Death Star destroyed. Too bad it wouldn't happen. Suddenly the darkly clad man paused, an idea striking him. One he almost disregarded immediately. On the surface it seemed ridiculous. However the more he thought about it, the more he liked it.

All things being equal, Vader preferred to meet his enemies head on. He disliked the games played at the Imperial Court. Vipers, the lot of them, willing to sell out their own Mothers if the price was right. However, it was a game he had learned to play well, out of necessity.

He would arrange for the princess to escape, the former Jedi decided. Ensuring that both she and the stolen plans made it safely back to the Alliance. If the Emperor found out he could simply claim he was leading the Rebels into a trap. Something his so-called Master would not question at all. Palpaltine had always underestimated the group.

In truth though, the trap would be for Tarkin. He and this monstrosity he had created. Vader spun on his heel, making his way towards his temporary quarters. The plan solidifying with every step.

**33: What One Would Give II**

A group of captives was drug roughly into the room. Their leader staring in horror at the young man seated at the Dark Lord's feet. "Lord Zedd, please he's just a boy!"

Zedd chuckled darkly, running one clawed hand through his prize's hair. "Why I do believe they are worried about you," he said. His tone practically screaming how quickly that would change if they knew they truth.

The Lord of Nim leaned back on his throne. Looking from Tommy to his captives and then back again. "Kill them," he ordered.

A cool expression crossed Tommy's face as he looked up at his Master. "They are unarmed," he pointed out calmly.

Zedd sighed. "Someday child, I will rid you of these morals you cling to."

"Perhaps," the former ranger acknowledged. "But it will not be today."

For a moment the pair simply stared at each other. Then Zedd snapped his fingers. "Fetch their weapons." Within minutes, the prisoners were both unbound, and armed. The situation made more interesting by the sorcerer's promise that if they won they would leave unharmed.

The leader of the patrol looked at their opponent with regret. "I am sorry," he said sincerely. "But I must do what is best for my people."

"I am sorry as well." Then Tommy moved, ducking under one blade while kicking another into the air. He did not wait for it to come back down but leapt. Catching the hilt and twisting to catch one of the guardsmen across the throat.

It was a short fight, but brutal. When it was over, only a single person remained standing. Tommy dropped the bloodied blade to the ground, looking back at Zedd. "May I go now?" he asked.

Zedd rose, striding across the floor. "That depends," he said. "On whether you have remembered to whom you belong." He didn't believe for an instant the former ranger hadn't had time to finish the Prince off.

Tommy laughed bitterly, turning away. "How could I possible forget?" He had barely made it one step when a third voice spoke.

"Young warrior," it was the leader of the patrol. He was still alive. Though it was equally obvious he wouldn't be for much longer. The man coughed, specks of blood appearing around his mouth. "Might I have the honor of your name."

The brunette's eyes softened with compassion. "My true name would mean nothing to you," he said softly. "Most know me as Bloodstone."

"Bloodstone," the man repeated. He smiled, even as the light left his eyes. "You are not at all what I expected."

**37: Shades of Gray**

Dick walked confidently through the group of costumed villains. Well aware of the silence that followed in his wake. Slade had offered him a new uniform, but he had refused. He would not shame his family by turning away from them. He was Nightwing, and he had nothing to be ashamed of.

Besides, what was the worst they could do to him? Kill him? Thanks to the serum, that would be a temporary thing at best. As for suffering a fate worse than death. Well, he already had. Nightwing still held onto the hope that a few heroes had escaped the purge. But he knew, knew, that those closest to him had not been among them.

The darkly clad figure slipped out of the crowd. Stopping in front of a slightly raised table and giving its occupants a devil may care grin. Inwardly laughing at the look on Luther's face. "This a private party?" he inquired casually. "Or can anyone join?"


	9. SS 24 30 36

_Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one_

_Really need to get back on the ball_

_And I don't just mean with my writing_

_I got back from Marrakesh and just dropped_

_Miss having kids to teach_

**24: Life After Death**

"We also need to discover what special talents you have." If any, but Duo had a good feeling about this matter. And after more than three thousand years he had learned to trust his instincts.

Treize blinked. "I'm sorry. Talents?" He had no idea what the other was talking about.

The eternal teenager shrugged, rising smoothly to his feet. "Healing, sensing others, drawing on your quickening for power, these are things all Immortal's can do. But there are other gifts that aren't so common."

"Such as?" the former general had to admit he would have been curious even if the knowledge hadn't impacted his future survival.

"Darius had prophetic dreams. Cassandra can hypnotize people with her voice." His own gift was the ability to mask his quickening, not that he was in the habit of telling people that. It might not have been as impressive as the illusions his line brother used to weave, but it had saved his life more than once. Especially in his early years.

Duo smirked, remembering times gone by. "I think my favorite was Ramirez's. He could breath under water." He used to tell his new students they could do it too, just to see the looks on their faces afterward. The old reprobate must have gotten the shock of his life when it turned out his last charge could.

The dark clad figure bounced on his heels. "So up and at them student mine," he said pointing at the nearby lake. "You'll never know until you try."

**30: Codename: Uriel**

"I hate my life!" Alex shouted a moment before he hit the water. There was a tremendous splash as he impacted, the force shoving him many feet below the surface. Fortunately for him, the blond was a good swimmer.

Toeing off his shoes, the sixteen year old kicked for the surface. His lungs were burning by the time he reached it. But reach it he did, inhaling precious air. Alive, he was alive. Alex looked around, managing to spot the life-ring that had made the plunge from the plane with him.

It didn't take the teen's euphoria long to dissipate. Yes, he was alive, for all the good it did him. Water, nothing but water in all directions. He sighed. Sure, the tropical climate insured he wouldn't freeze to death. But on the other hand, it also raised to the chance of getting munched by something considerably. One encounter with a Great White in its natural environment had been more than enough thank you.

A grimace flicked across Alex's features. This was not good. It seemed his only chance was being rescued, and MI6 didn't exactly have the best record with that. Most of the time he didn't even bother calling for help anymore. Besides, the bad guy of the day had broken his homing signal.

But, there was still Archangel's doohickey. Alex thought about it as he bobbed with the waves. Thought about it long and hard. Really, what did he have to lose. Carefully removing the outer shell of the necklace, he turned on the small transceiver.

"If you can get here first, you can have me."

**36: A Clean Slate**

"Why didn't you tell me Tom was behind me?" the eight year old asked. Words slightly muffled due to the beating he had received. Though in his defense, he had been outnumbered four to one. One cheek was already showing what was sure to be a spectacular bruise and there was blood dripping from his nose.

He threw a sidelong glance at the figure who had been there as long as he could remember. Waiting for the lecture that was sure to follow. The one about picking fights you couldn't win. He didn't get it. Something that shouldn't have surprised him in retrospect. After all, Lindsey was many things, but predictable was not one of them.

The older, slightly transparent, man smirked, dropping to one knee in front of the other. It was something that had once been beneath Lindsey McDonald's dignity. Of course, that had been before he died. "And what good would that do you Eliot?" the former lawyer asked his own question in return. "Someday you are going to grow up." _He wouldn't always be here, _was what he really meant.

The smirk became as small smile as the boy's eyes darkened, catching the unspoken words. Taking that a step further Lindsey was telling him not to develop bad habits. Eliot huffed, sprawling backwards in the pile of hay. "There are days," he said, sounding older than his appearance would indicate. "That I really hate you."

"I fear I shall never recover from the blow," came the response. "Now get up."

Huh? A baffled expression crossed the kid's face.

Lindsey cocked one brow. "Unless that is, you don't want to learn how to fight?" Eliot would possess all his knowledge one day. But that wouldn't do the boy a bit of good if he didn't know how to use it.

_On another note_, _my poll is open_

_So drop by and vote for which one should be written_

_It will only take a few seconds_


	10. SS 10 35 51

_Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one_

_That means you are more than welcome to take one of these home_

_And to check out the full summaries over on Scribbles and Scratches_

_Also, please review. Even if it is just one or two words. Lack of comments here and at previously mentioned fic lately are really starting to hurt my self-esteem. It is hard to be inspired when you don't think anyone likes the story._

**10: Trials of Parenthood**

Mysterio groaned, fingers twitching as he struggled to lift himself from the ground. He made it a grand total of three inches before collapsing back onto the concrete. Just what had hit him? One moment he had had that annoying pest Spider-man on the ropes, and the next. . .

Wham. The special effects master hadn't even seen what had hit him. As the ringing in his ears subsided, Mysterio became aware of the sound of two people arguing. He lifted his head, struggling to get his eyes to focus. Then he blinked. What the hell? Two Spider-men? A moment later he realized his mistake, as one of the figures had distinctly feminine curves.

"Absolutely not!" that was Spider-man. "I forbid it. You're far too young."

The other figure just raised her chin in defiance. "You can't stop me. Besides," she added. "I'm as old as you were when you started." And much better trained, May thought silently to herself. Unlike her Father, she had been taught how to fight. He had learned in the school of hard knocks.

"But."

The slightly smaller figure cut him off. "With great power comes great responsibility," she said quietly. "You taught me that."

Peter groaned. "Just," he sighed. "Just go home, we'll talk about this later."

Under her mask May smiled, knowing she had won. "Yes," she pumped a fist before shooting a web-line into the air. Watch out New York, the spectacular Spider-woman is on the job."

"Girl!" Peter shouted after the retreating figure. "Spider-girl." He would rather not have anyone imagine just what was under the tight fitting spandex of the eldest child's suit. "And you!" he turned his attention back to Mysterio. "Not a word."

That was just fine with Mysterio, as to be honest, he had no idea whether he should laugh or cry.

**35: Hidden Beneath**

The two lords were like night and day. One pale, with long silver hair and eyes like burnished gold, dressed all in white. The other with eyes and hair as dark as night, clothed in shadows. However, they did have some things in common. They were both tall and slender, both certain of their power, and neither of them were willing to back down.

Sesshoumaru had met the Master of the Shadow Isles several times before, usually due to matters of politics. The kage youkai ruled his domain well, and did not speak unnecessarily, something he appreciated. However, although the other had never been less than civil, he was well aware Osamu disliked him, intensely. Why, he had no idea, nor did he care as long as things remained civil.

Therefore, he was surprised when the dark figure took a sharp breath. "You don't know," the shadow demon whispered almost to himself in a tone of wonder. "You honestly do not know."

The Lord of the West raised one silver brow in inquiry, his facial expression remaining as smooth as ice. "What does this Sesshoumaru not know?"

Osamu opened his mouth to answer only to be interrupted by a third party.

"Osamu!" Inuyasha yelled, yanking open the door of the others manor. The hanyou staggered, bracing one hand against the wall, upper body swathed in bandages. "You bastard! What have you done with my pendant!"

Sesshoumaru stared. Inuyasha was clearly furious, something that did not surprise him. His little brother had always had a temper. The fact that he was now a she, and possibly had always been a she, well that was new.

Osamu was at the young woman's side immediately scooping her into his arms and ignoring the strident declarations that she could walk and put her down thank you very much. "I assure you Sesshoumau-sama," he said sincerely, turning his attention back to the elder inuyoukai. "That I have nothing but the most honorable of intentions towards your younger sister."

Any response Sesshoumaru may have had to that was drowned out by his sibling's raised voice. "And if you even think of asking him for my hand I'll rip yours off!"

**51: Life on the Road**

"I am telling you Karr," the ten-year old complained. "I can't do it." He sent an emerald glare at the fist sized rock. "It was a fluke."

"Ridiculous," the AI responded. "I observed you telekinetically move a much larger object under duress."

Harry opened his mouth to deny it only to be cut off.

"My sensors were not mistaken," Karr nearly snarled, disliking this disruption to his otherwise logical world. "The unknown energy was clearly emitted from your body." The AI did not like not knowing things, and had declared the phenomenon required further study. "If you did it once logic follows that you can do it again."

Sighing, the boy went back to staring at the rock, brow furrowed in concentration. Nothing happened. "See," Harry said. "I told you . . ."

"Move the rock or I will leave you here."

Emerald green eyes widened in horror behind his glasses, The rock shooting straight up, so high up, that after a moment Harry couldn't see it anymore.

"Interesting," Karr commented as if nothing had happened. "It seems emotional stimuli aid in the initial process. Now," he commanded. "Do it again."


End file.
